Circa early 2000s Dad and I pulled into the parking lot and let the flagman wave us into a spot. There were a few archers putting their bows together and preparing for the day to come. After getting our stuff ready, we began the walk past the outdoor target archery range to get to the tent at the dreaded field course behind the Anheuser Busch plant in Merrimack, N.H. I had shot that course many in the past, and it was usually the course that separated the pack. It had mowed paths in it, with the grass reaching hip height in many places. The wind that whipped through the field often wreaked havoc on shooters. Then, the targets that were set off the steep bank along the river could make a seasoned veteran beg for mercy. All I had to do is get through this course, and I knew I would have a chance at winning. However, times I also needed to get it done quickly because I had qualified for the elimination matches in the target archery portion of the National Archery Festival, and I needed to be at the target assignment by noon. I would be facing one of the region’s good target archers, James Priest.
Walking past the large targets with yellow bullseyes that were laid out across the soccer field, I reached into my imagination and saw myself standing on the line shooting perfect shots in my elimination match. Although I would be a lower seed, I saw myself running the table.
A few minutes later, my mind came back to the task at hand. The sky was gray, and the light drizzle made the walk to the field course miserable. Once there, we realized we would have to wait for someone to arrive to fill our group.
Finally, I spotted a man making his way toward the tent. He appeared to be about 60 years old, and I found it odd that he didn’t have anyone with him. When he got to us, the thick New England accent alerted me to the fact that he was probably from someplace near Boston. He said he was happy when he “sawr” guys standing at the tent because he knew he would be able to finish the course.
As we walked about 30 yards to the side of the tent, the rain picked up and turned into a steady stream. When I drew the bow, my sight picture was a little unsteady, and the precipitation made my release a tad slippery. When the shot broke, the arrow found its mark, but it took everything I had to stay in the 10-ring.
Upon getting to the target to score the arrows, this man wanted to know who was going to write and who was going to score and pull arrows. I was already annoyed for some reason, and my initial impression was neither good nor bad. I just didn’t feel like shooting with the guy. Listening to him talk and having to deal with the fact that he didn’t know anything about 3D archery, I was annoyed before we even got going. It didn’t help, when he wanted to give his take on how to call arrows on the first target, trying to say an arrow that wasn’t inside out in the 10—ring was an 8.
“Uh, no it’s not,” I informed him.
We braved the rain and zigzagged through the field. About two hours later, we had finished, and I knew I probably would be sitting in the top 3 at the end of the event. We exchanged pleasantries (and contact info.) with the man and headed to the target range for my elimination match.
Many years have passed since the day we met the man with the heavy Boston accent. We shared a few dinners at national IBO events over the next 10 years, but, eventually, this man found his calling when he began shooting in the regional and national senior games. He would call for advice from time to time, and he and his wife would come to visit my mom and dad. He treated us like we were godlike beings. He always mentioned how he liked my attire at the national IBO events. I used to wear a T-shirt and holey jeans. The holes in my pants were from where I constantly rested the bottom on the top of my leg.
I used to love walking to the first target looking like I was a homeless person. Then, at the end of the rounds, people would be amazed at the outcome. I enjoyed every second of it. If shooter shirts weren’t required in pro classes to collect contingencies, I’d still do the same. I think that attire speaks more about my actual personality: I’m an educated redneck.
Last year, I attended my first National Senior Games, which was held in Ft. Lauderdale, Fla. We made plans to go to it with this man and his wife. Our hotel was in the same parking lot as a Cracker Barrel restaurant, so we ate there a few times over the course of our stay.
After the first day of the event, the man found out he would be on the first bale the next day. We all know what it means to be on bale 1 the second day… it means you’re at the top of the pack and have a chance to win. He had a chance to become a national champion. We discussed his first-day performance, and I gave him just a few words of advice. Although he was in the 80-84 bracket, I was able to give him advice. It felt good to give back, especially to a long-time friend.
He would go on to win the event, and I was ecstatic about it. I think many of us enjoy rooting for our friends as much as we enjoy winning. I’m one of those people.
After the win, the man called me to ask some questions about his equipment. That’s when I recommended that he see Al at X-Spot Archery. I knew Al would take good care of him and possibly bring him to another level.
Before long, a great relationship was formed, and Al got him on the right track and ready to defend his title in Pittsburgh this year at the National Senior Games. The man showed up with a new attitude, some new arrows, and a well-tuned bow, even though he had some stuff taped together on it.
When the dust settled, the man was a National Champion yet again. He had defended his title, and he made sure to put on his X-Spot sweatshirt for the awards ceremony. This man is my friend. His name is Leon Sepuka.
He is (and always has been) grateful for any help given, and he always gives back in his own way. He’s a friend who would do anything for you because he values you in his life.
I’m thankful for Leon’s friendship over the years, and I’m proud of where he has come from what he was when I met him. Not many people can keep moving forward to get to the top of the mountain. The journey has been amazing to watch from afar. Now, all these years later, I feel like I might need to ask him about a few things to help me get over the hump again.
Having friends like Leon is what keeps me coming back to archery tournaments. We share the same passion, and we all have our own goals that we constantly work to achieve. I’ve made friends from all over the world, and they come in all shapes, sizes, races, and ages. I’m thankful for every one of them, as they have all contributed to the success I’ve achieved over the years. Getting Leon hooked up with X-Spot archery was a game-changer, and I’m glad Al willingly went out of his way to help my friend, especially since I live over four hours from the shop. Al welcomed him in and quickly rectified some issues on his bow and got him pointed in the right direction. Al has also helped me immensely this year by taking a chance of some new products and putting them in his shop. I’ve always believed good people find good people, and one hand will always wash the other. This is way supporting your local shops is so important. I’ve seen many shop shooters over the years, but the shooters who represent X-Spot Archery are second to none. Al knew what he was doing when he decided whom he wanted to wear his colors.
I encourage all of you to take time to sit back and reflect on all the people you’ve met in archery. Who is your Leon?
I’m sure some fantastic memories will resurface. Some of my archery friends are no longer with us, and others I see on a regular basis. We are all archers, and we all love releasing arrows and seeing them soar through the air. The flight of the arrow has taken me into a fairy-tale land that I never could’ve imagined when I began traveling to test my skills against others, and I’ve always been glad to share the magical land with all others who have fallen into it. We are all
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